


First keeses ooh la la

by and_awful



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, they gon kiss that's all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-20
Updated: 2013-01-20
Packaged: 2017-11-26 05:16:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/646975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/and_awful/pseuds/and_awful
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cal and Dirk share their first kiss, that's basically all.  Dirk's a pissy little teen and Cal's Cal I guess, there's nothing much to it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First keeses ooh la la

**Author's Note:**

> I saw http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mdeqyfs2xB1qea9lfo1_500.png and wondered how the pair went about shifting from the third stage to the fourth, so I crapped this out quickly and shortly and rushedly cause I'm meant to be doing other shit, oops.

I don’t recall when Cal first came into my life.  He tells me that he was here from the beginning, and I accept that.  I also don’t recall when he changed from being fuddy duddy Cal sitting and watching me behave myself to fuddy duddy Cal sitting and looking gorgeous.  He doesn’t have an answer to that because he doesn’t know he’s changed.

I am ashamed to say that though he doesn’t know, he certainly must suspect by now.  I have the tendency to, for lack of a better phrase, freak out when he does some of the things that I used to be indifferent to.  For example, if we are to watch a movie, I never took that much notice, but he sits up against me.  Every morning when I style my hair he teases me for it and, again, I only noticed when it made my stomach feel fuzzy.

I know what I’m feeling is wrong, so I’ve been trying to get rid of it.  Admittedly, I’m doing that in all the wrong ways, but I’ve already been ignoring him for a week, so it’s not like I can just stop and try something new.  I’ve made too much of a scene to go back now.

If he were to find out, there is no doubt in my mind that he would get mad, and for some reason that makes me mad.  He keeps initiating these feelings in me even though he doesn’t want me to have them.  I get angry with him enough to yell at him whenever he leans against me or whenever he teases me in the bathroom.  I’ve began locking him out while I’m in there and I suppose it helps.  I do miss him terribly, though.

The house is eerily silent now.  He used to try to sing to cover it up.  He’d sing and get louder and louder until I’d put down whatever I was doing and we’d scream the lyrics together.  He’d tried it a couple of times when I first started ignoring him but got deterred when I kept telling him to shut up in the rudest way I could fathom.  I just hope that he’s not taking it too personally.  It’s not like I hate him, it’s in fact quite the opposite.

 

A week and a half into my silence he’s finally said something.  I pretend I don’t notice and type on my computer even though there’s no program to type into.  He does sound mad.  I’m worried my awkward shift in my chair has indicated that I did in fact hear him and I am in fact ignoring him. 

“I’m busy.”  I mumble.  It’s a poor, over-used excuse, but I figure it’s better than saying nothing.

“Dirk.”  He scolds.  “Come here.  We need to talk.”

I sigh and drum my fingers mindlessly along the keys.  I really shouldn’t have said anything; it’s only made matters worse.  I spin around in my chair to face him, to tell him that we don’t have anything to talk about anymore; that I’ve grown up and I don’t need nor want him anymore, but I can’t.  I turn back around and put on a pair of headphones.

“Dirk Strider,” He scolds again.  “You take those off this instant and listen to me.”  I can’t tell if he’s more mad or upset now.  The two emotions have blended together into his tone and it makes my heart ache.  I didn’t want this.  I just wanted things to go back to normal.

“I need some time, Cal.”  I say as I lower the headphones around my neck.  They’re not even plugged into anything.  “I’ll talk to you in a week, buddy, I promise.  Just one week.”

“You’ve had a week.”  He explains.  “You’ve had more than a week.  We’re talking about this now and you can start by explaining to me what the fuck is going on.”

“Nothing is going on, Cal, plea–”

“At first I thought it had to be hormones and you were throwing a fit at something I did, but now it’s gone on too long.  Talk to me, what’s wrong?”

“No.” I snap.  “I will talk to you in a week, Cal, Jesus.”  I stand up and collect some books to make it look like I have things to do.  “And I don’t want you talking to me until this is all settled.”

“Until what is all settled?”

“Fuck, Cal!”  I screech, throwing the books to the floor.  I didn’t mean for it to be so loud.  “It’s amazing I’m as bright as I am considering I was raised by someone as thick as you!  You want to talk?  Let’s talk about how you are the biggest asshole I have ever met.  Let’s talk about how you know exactly what you’re doing and exactly what it’s doing to me but you won’t stop because you’re sick.  You’re a sick man, Cal, and I want nothing to do with it!”  I bring my hand up to rub my eye.  “Please, just fucking leave or something.  I don’t want you anymore.”  I go to apologise because I mean literally none of it but I don’t.  It’s better if I don’t.  I look at him with my shoulders slouched and quickly exit the room. It’s better that he thinks I hate him.  It’s- it’s worse.

 

I successfully avoid him all evening until I finally decide to crawl off to bed.  He’s sitting at the foot of my bed like a common dog.  I pause in the doorway and stare at him, but he doesn’t make an attempt to talk to me, so he must be asleep.

I tiptoe my way over and noisily climb into bed despite my efforts to be quiet.  I take off my shades and throw them over to my desk, missing completely and having them slide between it and the wall, then pull the sheets up over my head.  I don’t want him looking at me after all that I’ve said.

“Di–” Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck. “–Rk.”

“I’m asleep.”  I say into my pillow.

“No you’re not, Mr. Puberty, hop up.  We’ll make it quick; describe what’s bugging you in three words.  Just three.”

“Not enough sleep.  Cal, shut up.  Let me rest.”

“Oh ha ha, wise guy.  I’m being serious, Dirk.  Sit up, what’s wrong?”

I kick my feet around under the covers until I hit him and kick him off the bed.  Unexpectedly, I laugh lightly in triumph at my deed, and that makes me feel worse than I already did, so I fish him up off the floor and let him climb into bed with me.

“Nothing’s wrong.”  I lie as I curl up around him.  It’s very homey to have him pressed against me.  “I just. . .” I take in a deep breath to calm myself.  If I’m honest maybe he’ll get pissed and stop making me try to talk to him and everything can go back to being silent forever.  Maybe he’ll tell me that I’m the sick one and that he hates me for it and I won’t have to feel bad for ignoring him because he’ll be glad I’m doing it.  Maybe the butterflies in my gut will finally become powerful enough to burst out and stab me.  “Cal, I love you.”  I blurt out with a sudden sense of faux confidence that’s already dissolved.   I really shouldn’t have said that.

“I love you too, kid.”  He say- what?  “Now what’s been bugging you?”

Oh.

Of course.

“Nothing.”  I lie again.  I’m not sure if I’m relieved or upset.  “Puberty is just overwhelming.  It translates everything to ‘annoying’ and I’ve let it get the best of me.  I’ve missed you.”

 

We return to the way things were.  I let him into the bathroom and he teases me about my hair.  He says that I must be doing it to impress him, since there’s no one else around.  That’s a new one, but I agree because I guess it must be true.  I tease him in return saying that he must be coming in here to see me topless.  He agrees too but I don’t let it get to me.

Things are normal enough for me to return my head into his lap while we’re watching TV, which is really really great.  He puts his hand in my hair and I shut my eyes to enjoy it, but I must fall asleep because the next thing I know he’s telling me good morning.

I squeeze my eyes shut a couple times to get the sleep away.  “Sorry,” I mumble, voice thick with rest.  “I didn’t think I’d fall asleep.”  I yawn and shift against him as I stretch, lazily grinning up at him once I’ve cracked all my joints.

Without warning, he slowly begins leaning down, then all at once his mouth comes down on mine.  I gasp and sit up, though I regret it immediately.  My mouth opens and closes like a stupid fish while my brain tries to make sense of what just happened.  He was meant to be angry with that idea.  He was meant to– oh God.

I scoop him up and press my lips to his.  They’re warmer than I imagined and welcome mine more than they ever did in my wildest dreams.  My stomach explodes in a fit of God knows what emotion, and without my knowledge, my hand runs up his side.  I have no clue what I’m doing or why he’s letting me do it let alone being the one to initiate it, but I don’t stop.  I keep my lips to his and slowly begin moving them, lowering him down onto the couch.  His giggles, however, snap me back to reality and I pull away just the slightest bit.

“Should I not have–”

“I love you.”  He chimes.  I can’t keep the dorky smile off of my face.  He begins to say something else but I interrupt him with my lips against his.  We can talk about it later.

**Author's Note:**

> Stupidest fucking ending, I swear to God, but there ya go.


End file.
